


Unmasked

by Leandra



Series: Leandra does Kinkalot 2020 [8]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Kinkalot 2020, M/M, Masks, Merlin is a Little Shit (Merlin)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:02:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26197570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leandra/pseuds/Leandra
Summary: People around him started chanting and hooting, some threw their heads back, howling or making other animalistic noises. Across the fire, crowing excitedly like the rest of them, a dark-haired boy in short sheepskin trousers hanging low on his skinny hips caught his eye, his generous mouth pulled into a wide smile.Arthur felt a pang of attraction, and he couldn't look away, his eyes again and again drawn to the skinny, tall figure.- Masks, bonfires, mistaken identities...Written for Kinkalot 2020 Main Challenge 3: Kink Link
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: Leandra does Kinkalot 2020 [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1869424
Comments: 12
Kudos: 86
Collections: Kinkalot 2020





	Unmasked

Arthur’s blood was beating heavily in his veins, fuelled by the strong wine and the driving drums. The night air was warm on his naked, sweat drenched torso. The golden mask of the Sun God he was wearing made him feel free, not a Prince tonight, just another man celebrating the summer’s annual fertility rites before harvest.

The court wasn’t officially partaking, but Arthur knew that like him a lot of them snuck out into the night in simple clothing and colourful masks to join in the festivities.

On every hill top, men and women were dancing around bonfires, holding hands, moving to the primitive beat of the goatskin drums and the shrill whistles of the flutes. Children with flowers in their hair ran around everywhere, playing catch amidst the adults. It was complete and utter chaos, and Arthur loved every second of it.

Someone grabbed him by the hand, pulling him with them into a throng of people and Arthur threw his head back and laughed. He found himself in a chain of dancers, led by a man adorned with antlers and a deer mask. They more stumbled than danced as their leader guided them in spirals around the biggest bonfire, and Arthur tripped along with them, his usually graceful feet catching on stones and tufts of grass. 

People around him started chanting and hooting, some threw their heads back, howling or making other animalistic noises. Across the fire, crowing excitedly like the rest of them, a dark-haired boy in short sheepskin trousers hanging low on his skinny hips caught his eye, his generous mouth pulled into a wide smile. 

Arthur felt a pang of attraction, and he couldn't look away, his eyes again and again drawn to the skinny, tall figure. His white skin was bathed in the orange-golden glow of the fire, making him look ethereal, unearthly. His mask was simple, brown, coarse leather with two slits for his eyes. He wore a flower crown, like a maiden. His bare feet were scratched up to his bony knees by brambles, but he didn't seem aware of it, caught in the magic of the dance, like Arthur.

The beat of the drums accelerated and the speed of the dancers picked up, too, the man at the front leading them so fast that the chain dissolved in places. More and more dancers broke away in twos or threes, shrieking with laughter as they made for the woods like a pack of roused deer. 

Someone snatched Arthur’s hand and he startled, finding the dark-haired boy smirking at him, a wicked, wide grin that made Arthur’s stomach flutter.  
The boy’s hand was warm where it lay in Arthur's, his eyes sparkling in the firelight with brash intent. Arthur felt enchanted – by the night and by the boy, who seemed to be somewhat otherworldly. Maybe he just came out on nights like this, nights full of magic and ancient rites.

The boy pulled and together they broke into the forest like the rest of the dancers, the boy leading them stumbling through underwood and over roots.

He stopped abruptly and Arthur tumbled into him, their bodies colliding. Both their breaths came fast. Arthur placed one hand on the boy’s heaving chest, touching soft hair and a nipple, which tightened at the brush of his fingers. The boy sucked in a soft breath, his soft, wet mouth falling open, blue eyes staring at Arthur from behind the mask. Arthur crowded forward, and they half-stumbled, half-sank down onto the soft moss.

*-* 

The boy tasted like sweat and arousal, smelled like earth and fire. He shuddered beneath Arthur and bucked like a wild thing, body all hard edges and bone as they rutted against each other, their breeches half-way undone, the drum from the bonfires distant and drowned out by their gasping breaths. 

Arthur looked down and found the boy’s eyes and held them, their movement becoming frantic. Their bodies were slick where skin met skin, sweat easing their movement where their cocks slipped together. Arthur bit down on the boy’s full bottom lip, hissing when he suddenly stilled, body tight as a bowstring. With a groan, the boy shook apart beneath Arthur, the wet warmth spreading messily on his belly causing Arthur to follow suit. 

Their unsteady breathing raced each other until the boy moved, pushing Arthur off and to the ground. Arthur fell on his back, still panting, hissing at the soft, sloppy touch of lips to his lower stomach. When he looked down, the boy was kneeling between his spread legs, glancing up at him with heat in his eyes, licking come from his lips.

“Don’t stop on my account,” Arthur groaned, reaching down to twine his fingers into the boy's hair, pushing him down towards his groin. His thumb caught on a coarse thread, and the leather mask on his face slipped, and suddenly Arthur knew who the mysterious boy was. And then he realised, he had known all along who it was: his newly appointed manservant, the boy who was always sassily talking back and who antagonised him whenever possible.

“Merlin,” Arthur breathed, his fingers carding through Merlin's curly hair in a soft caress.

Merlin flinched, his eyes wide as he stared at Arthur from under his slipped mask. “Shit,” he cursed hoarsely, “you want me to stop?” 

“I’d rather you go back to what you were about to do,” Arthur murmured, reaching down and trailing a finger across Merlin’s plump lips. 

Merlin groaned and held Arthur’s half-lidded gaze. “Only if you repay the favour, _my Lord_ ,” he said challengingly, seemingly having found his composure again, voice full of that aggravating touch of insubordination that Arthur was slowly learning to appreciate. 

Rolling his eyes, Arthur pushed him downwards. “Deal. Now get about it, Mer _lin_.” 

“As you wish, my Lord,” Merlin grinned, but the title still sounded insincere on his lips. 

In hindsight, Arthur decided to forgive his transgression. Merlin’s sassy mouth felt too good.


End file.
